Passive
by AerrowLover
Summary: AU after S7 E20 - A depressed Ryan drinks to forget and feel better, not knowing that he has unwittingly placed himself in danger. Can he somehow be saved - both from the danger, and from himself?
1. Interview with the Wolfe

**A/N: ****Well, I went on a **_Miami _**craze a while ago and then after watching season seven, this suddenly appeared in my head and refused to leave. Don't blame me - blame the muse! Which is, um….Miami. (Apparently.)**

**So, this is strictly AU - it's something that could have happened after the infamous episode 20 in season seven, alright?**

**Warning**** - contains swearing, drinking and images of violence, so if you do not like, please don't read and then flame me after for it, as I did warn you.**

**Disclaimer: ****No, I do not own any CSI Miami characters or storylines. If I did, I would have one hell of a fun time. ;) Also, I do not own the lyrics below - that honour goes to the awesome Audioslave ("Cochise") and especially to Chris Cornell. **

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**~Passive~**

_Drown if you want-  
and I'll see you in the bottom  
Where you crawl…  
On my skin…  
And put the blame on me …  
So you don't feel a thing …_

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_Drink One._

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You know, when people say that alcohol can help solve problems, normally I laugh at them. Tell them that it's completely wrong - aside from the many, _many _health problems that drinking can inflict on your body, it also has the added effect of actually making things worse; you know what I mean - you drink to forget your sorrows, fuel anger, feel happy, all that stuff, and you drink to do all those things and for a short period of time the alcohol works. But then it all goes away and you are left in the same position that you were before you started, only this time with a massive hangover and feeling even more miserable. But then your life makes you feel depressed - maybe your job sucks, your partner cheats on you, you just feel worthless - and then inorder to feel better, you once again turn to the drink, regardless of what you will suffer the following day.

A pattern soon becomes a cycle, and that cycle soon becomes a lifeline.

Hence why I usually laugh and say that believing that saying is the same as believing a lie. But most folks I know that follow that saying religiously, learn it off by heart, and then they just ignore me and continue with their drinking. Going down that long, slow and usually painful path and become full - blown alcoholics and end up with everything in tatters. Marriages, jobs, home life - all over. All down the drain. If I was a more sarcastic, cold-hearted kinda guy, I would say that it all went down that drain after coming out of a bottle, but that's not me. At least, I don't _say _it out loud to my friends. I just think it. Which makes it something completely different, of course. But let me get back to what I was originally saying. After all, a drink can only last a certain amount of time, can't it?

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_Drink Three._

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So, any clever people will have no doubt picked up on the fact that I have said quite clearly my views on drinking to help with life's problems, but that I have mentioned the words "normally" and "usually" while rambling on. And if those people are truly clever, then they will quite easily pick up on the fact that those words are therefore implying that I've kinda changed my views on the whole damn thing. And you know what? Those smart people deserve a pat on the back. Hell, since they're so quick off the block, maybe they could be cops. CSIs, to be exact. Maybe they can even have my job - I don't think I deserve it anymore; or at least, that's what everyone I work with must think… But I digress.

So yeah - go ahead, feel free to take it. Go on and apply to Mr. Horatio Caine, see if he'll take you. Keep your head down and your gun clean and you'll be flying. That's what I did and _I _got the job, so you'll be fine. After that, it's a piece of cake. For then you'll be in his teams of CSIs and have a nice little career all planned out for you. Solving crimes, closing cases, giving grieving families closure - you can do all that. Maybe save lives. Then you'll be thought of as a hero and get to live happily ever after. The end.

The problem is, of course, how you got offered the job in the first place.

Hopefully you will end up being lucky and get offered a job because someone is leaving, retiring, getting transferred… Any of those are fine. You will still be welcomed into the team with open arms. But if someone in the team was killed, someone that was respected and loved, someone who was friends with all the team, well then - that's when things get tough. Since his death leaves a position vacant, the jobs got to be offered up, doesn't it? And then unlucky bastard who gets the job will of course be trying to fill pretty big shoes; be told that he's not as good as so and so, will be treated like the rookie no one wants to work with and of course, be made to feel like he's replacing the recently departed, may they R.I.P.

Where are those smart people? Still there? Well, you lot should've been able to pick up on the fact that by the way I'm ranting on here, that I am in fact speaking from experience. And you lot would be right.

Because I _am_ speaking from experience here. Three years ago I was given the chance to work with Horatio Caine and his CSIs in Miami-Dade's Crime Lab. Three years ago I got the job (thanks to my OCD and shiny clean gun which impressed the Lieutenant) and three years ago I got the new position of "Speedle's Replacement".

Yeah, it was three long years ago. So why hasn't it all got better for me? That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question right there.

The answer? Well, I just happen to be that type of guy where everything goes wrong in his life. I'm sure you know some people like that - the ones who are either rubbing people up the wrong way without meaning it, the ones where people get annoyed at, the ones where just in general, trouble always finds them - and yeah, I'm one of them. But I don't try and improve things, oh no. I always seem to muck things up perfectly well on my own without life dictating it for me, and I also seem to deliberately do so…

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_Drink Five._

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So, for a while I was always at loggerheads with one of my co-workers, Eric Delko. The guy instantly took a dislike to me from day one, since I was replacing his best friend on the job. He seemed to go out of his way to pick fights with me, and then relish his triumph when he won the fights or whenever I mucked up. To him it proved a point - that I wasn't good enough for the job. It wasn't true then, but you know, when I reflect on what has recently happened, it may just be true now.

I remember hearing that Valeria had remarked that what we really needed to do was to "go into a room and beat each other up." Well, that never did happen and after I got shot in the eye with a nail gun - a very long story, I'll tell you all about it sometime, but not now - Delko felt responsible

and raced me to the hospital. Since then, we've kinda become friends, but there are still times when we have disagreements, or when he has blamed me for things. Sometimes I see him look at my locker that's besides Speedle's old one, and then he looks at Speedle's and back again, and I then know that he still misses Speed and views me as the replacement still. But I'll take that if that's all there is. I'll take it and be grateful. Like I said, we're friends now.

I get on fine with Calleigh. My first case - right on my first day, too - involved her father, who believed he had run over someone whilst drinking driving, so obviously she wasn't too pleased that a rookie got her dad's case. But, turns out everything went fine and I was able to clear her father of the murder and since that time she's always been there and been pretty supportive of me. She refused to take sides whenever Delko and I got into a fight, meaning that she did care for both of us. I had expected her to side with him, but she didn't, which was nice of her. So yeah, Calleigh's grand to get along with.

Alexx Woods, the medical examiner. Boy, was she distant for the first few weeks of the job; saying that she "didn't need new friends". But then all that changed. She became pretty much a second mother to me - she was there when that bloody nail was in my eye, she was there whenever there was a chance I may lose my sight…When she left, I was upset. Fine, I'll admit it - I was close to tears. I felt like a child, just wanted to hold onto her arm or something and beg her to stay. But she left some good several months ago now. How time flies.

And then there was Natalia. Natalia Boa Vista. I remember saying to her when I first met her -was it really nearly three full years ago? - "is that like the snake?". Her and I were okay for a bit, until I got….Well, when I had to leave for a bit, and then when I took a job as a leading witness I nearly got her into serious trouble over protocol issues and then everything went sour. We're okay now though, but there are times when she makes a reference to something do to with protocols and makes a joke about it, looking right at me. And then I look her in the eyes and see that she still remembers what I apparently did - setting her up in such a way as if to undermine her. It seems she'll never forget it, no matter how friendly we may be.

I can hear you all clamouring to find out why I had to leave. Okay, I'll be honest - I was fired. I was fired, alright? Got caught paying off someone I owed money to on the job - he was a suspect and I tried to cover up for him. Then after that, Horatio HAD to inform Stetler, who took great personal satisfaction with firing me.

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_Drink Seven._

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I struggled a lot after that. Skipped from job to job , never settling down and always seeming to rub more people up the wrong way. Just when I thought I could get my old job at the lab back again, it turned out I would have to wait for a long time before I actually could work there again - they had to have this massive review of al my work, conduct… Here the list goes on, but I'm sure you know what I mean. However, this meant that my pay checks were halted - I was broke. Had to take up more crappy jobs, like working in a firing range. I still struggled with financial issues and then I struggled with my gambling, too. It became an addiction; one which I couldn't shake off. I was in danger of losing myself.

What made matters worse was the fact I couldn't hide that fact away from me anymore. I lied about it; people asked me how I was and I said I was fine. I said I was fucking fine! It was the biggest lie I've probably ever told. I would tell someone I was okay, go home and look in the mirror and see myself; actually see myself for what I was. My own face looked back at me in disgust while my very own eyes would gaze at me accusingly.

I would laugh with someone, smile a bit, maybe - to them I was fine. But it was all for show. My perfect, cold façade.

I don't let on to anyone about anything in my personal life. I mean, I'm more of a loner, if I'm totally honest. A lone wolf, if you will…

Oh, what I can do with words. But once again though, I digress.

Whenever I did get my job back, it didn't feel the same. I could almost feel the stares that burned on my back. I knew why I was treated with such difference - I was the one who in many people's eyes should have been kicked out long ago, and yet I kept getting chances. I shouldn't have been there, according to them. Hell, maybe they were right. But the comments and stares still weren't the best to deal with.

So, like I said, I have a habit of rubbing people up the wrong way, making trouble for myself and others…The list goes on. So, you smart people who could get a job as a CSI, do me a massive favour, yeah? Don't take the Ryan Wolfe method when you work - it'll only wind you up in a whole heap of trouble, and quite possibly you'll have to leave your job as well.

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**A/N - This is a starting chapter of sorts, like a taster. I can promise you that things will liven up in the next chapter! Ryan just has to ramble when he's drinking, doesn't he...**

**So…Likely or not likely? **


	2. History Repeats Itself

**A/N: Well, I went on a** _Miami _**craze a while ago and then after watching season seven, this suddenly appeared in my head and refused to leave. Don't blame me - blame the muse! Which is, um….Miami. (Apparently.)**

**As promised, chapter two has more of a plot to it, and it will mark the start of Ryan's troubles, okay? Enjoy.  
Two chapters in one day, you lucky things...**

**Warning**** - contains swearing, drinking and images of violence, so if you do not like, please don't read and then flame me after for it, as I did warn you.**

**Disclaimer: ****No, I do not own any CSI Miami characters or storylines. If I did, I would have one hell of a fun time. ;) Also, I do not own the lyrics below - that honour goes to the awesome Audioslave ("Cochise") and especially to Chris Cornell. **

* * *

_Drown if you want-  
and I'll see you in the bottom  
Where you crawl…  
On my skin…  
And put the blame on me …  
So you don't feel a thing …_

* * *

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_Drink Nine._

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"You want another?" The barkeeper sounded incredulous. It was no wonder - the young man before him whom he had been served for quite some time now had drunk a lot, and what he had been drinking was strong.

There was a raising of the dark head and a sharp nod issued. "Yeah…" Then a wave of a hand. "Gimme… Another…"

"Look, I don't think you should have another, okay?" The barkeeper tried to keep his voice quiet and soothing. He had been in the business for a long, long time now, and he knew from experience when a customer had had too much. He wasn't one of those guys who activity encouraged the poor people to keep drinking in order to get more money - rather, he liked to look after his customers, especially the regulars. The new faces, since he didn't know them, didn't get the exact same treatment but a close approximation of it. But this young man, for some reason, raised his concern.

Maybe it was because he looked so young; too young to be so reliant on alcohol, or maybe it was because (and here the barkeeper had to be honest with himself - it was probably this reason) he looked so much like his son. His son who had died of an overdose. His son who had drunk himself into a stupor before going crazy with drugs. It was always painful, thinking of his Alex. The boy who would never have a family, or have a long life. So he'd be dammed if he let this man in front of him, who resembled Alexx so vividly in feature start to resemble him in is life.

"Come on, son." The term of endearment slipped out without his knowing. There was a brief pause in which the young man raised his head, showing to the barkeeper vivid brown orbs and a bruised face with a spilt lip. He looked terrible.

_Poor kid…_ Daniel Lennox, a.k.a fatherly barkeeper thought to himself. _He looks like hell. I'm not having him drink more so he ends up looking worse, if that's even possible._

The young man merely shrugged - a slow and meticulous move of the shoulders, indicating that it was painful movement. He leant back into the seat, hanging his head once more.

"…Lisssten…I…" The words were sluggish and slurred - a common enough complaint. The dark haired man, whom Daniel was fighting not to call Alex ran a shaking hand through already ruffled hair. "…I…Jussst need more…"

"You know you've had enough for tonight. Why don't you head on home?" Daniel suggested, leaning on the bar and reaching to take the glass in front of the man away. He continued talking in the hope he could distract the kid in front of him inorder to take away the glass.

The kid was sharp though; amazingly sharp for one so sodden with alcohol.

He slammed a hand on the glass - once again showing quick reactions for someone so heavily intoxicated - and pulled it towards him, turning the hand from something on the attack to the defensive; and wrapped the hand around the glass, almost to his chest.

He looked up again and Daniel was struck by the sheer despair written so clearly in those dark brown eyes.

"Look…I jussst want ssssome more…Alright? Pleasssse…" The voice sounded broken; the perfect voice for a broken and desperate man.

Daniel was about to tell the man that he couldn't let him do that to himself; he was about to beg him about going home or getting friends to pick him up when a crisp voice ran out from the opposite side of the bar.

"Oy, Barman! If he wants to drink, let him drink!" The voice seemingly belonged to a tall blonde man, casually posing on the bar, a glass perched elegantly in his hand. He smirked at Daniel, before looking over at the slumped figure of the Alex look-alike.

"Well, my friend, you seem rather down tonight…" The man slowly made his way up the bar and sat beside the young man, his crisp Texan accent sounding harsh on his drink-riddled brain.

"Th…Thanksss…" He murmured, his eyes flickering up to his apparent saviour; the one who would grant him access to more mind-numbing and pain-forgetting in the form of a drink.

"Oh, it is no problem, my little friend. No problem at all! Now, what else would you like?" The blonde-haired man said cheerily, titling his head to one side.

"Look, don't encourage him to drink, you fool! He's had enough -" Daniel started to say but was interrupted by a casual wave of the hand and a wide grin.

"Oh, it's always the same with you, Mr Lennox. Constantly worrying about all the little alcos here. But remember, if it wasn't for _us_, you wouldn't have any business now, would you?" He said, his grin for a moment becoming something else. Something dark.

Then suddenly he was grinning again, draping an arm around the dark haired kid.

"Well, if Mr Teetotaller here is going to stop us drinking, we could always head around to another place. What do you think? I know some nice little spots. What do you think about that? Wanna give it a go?"

"Look, he doesn't know you. And he's _drunk_! For Christ's sake, leave him be!" Daniel said in pure vexation, throwing his hands in the air and pointing at the blonde haired man. "I'm not letting you just drag him off somewhere!"

"Oh, what are you now? His daddy? How sweet, Mr Lennox. Adopting strays now, are we?"

"I swear -"

"Oh, swear all you like. He wants to come with me, right?" He turned to the young man and smirked. "Don't ya?"

The owner of the dark eyes looked confused and understandably anxious. He went to stand up, or maybe push the blonde haired man away - Daniel couldn't tell which - but he could only attempt a rather weak shove which was easily deflected by his once called saviour.

"Thankssss…But I don't know you!" He let out a wince as the blonde haired man tightened his hold on his arm with a little laugh.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that!" Here he laughed, before taking a sip of his drink. He swallowed and grinned, "I always forget introductions. Well, I'm Blake. Blake Smith. And you are, my little friend?"

"I'm…I'm Ryan." Daniel caught the name and told himself to remember it along with that face. He had a vague suspicion that this blonde creep, who didn't appear to be one of his regulars, wasn't up to any good, and he wanted to ensure that he could be of help, if it was required of him to be helpful.

"Ryan, eh? Well Ryan, I think you and I should get to know each other better and share our tales of woe, what about you?" Without waiting for an answer, Blake stood up and stretched, before carelessly throwing down a wad of rolled-up dollar bills and slinging his coat over on arm, peered down at Ryan.

"So? You coming then?"

The dark haired man looked up. He looked down at his glass before him before swinging his sight towards the barkeeper who had been so caring. He was torn. Part of him wanted to stay here under the influence of alcohol but with a fatherly figure there with him, and then head off home and sleep while the other part of him wanted to simply get more drunk. The more drunk he was, the better he would feel about what had so recently happened to him. The more drunk he was, the less he would remember. The less he remembered, the less pain he would feel. It was a win/win, really. So no contest. He glanced up to this Blake guy and attempted a grin.

"Ssssure, jusss' gimme a minute…Yeah?" He felt his tongue stumble over the words, but he was pretty certain the meaning got across when he held up his finger to show he would only be a minute.

Blake smiled, and then nodded. "Sweet. I'll meet you out front, alright? See ya in a bit, Ry!" He strode towards the bar door and soon vanished from sight.

Daniel looked at this Ryan and sighed. He decided to try one more tell to get him to leave and not go off with this other man; whom he had such a bad feeling about.

"Ryan?" He said, peering over at the kid.

Ryan looked up. "What?" His voice sounded, even to his own ears, rather abrupt and he shook his head, hating his tone of voice. He couldn't help it though - he always had been a bit of a light-weight and once he got drinking, he pretty much lost all control over everything - his emotions, being the first to go.

"Ssssorry…Didn't mean to ssssound ssso sshar- ssshar-" He suddenly giggled then - his laughter surprising Daniel - at his own lack of control when it came to forming words. "Y'know what I mean…" He waved his hands about to emphasis his point - what the point was, he had no idea, but he was sure there was one. Somewhere.

Daniel allowed himself to smile. He was liking this kid more and more - he was so like his own Alex and yet so different… He _had_ to stop him from drinking anymore, and especially drinking with that other man who seemed to have 'bad news' written all over him.

"Yeah, I know what you mean…" He said, smiling lightly. "Ryan, look - I don't know why you're drinking; what's the reasoning behind it and I don't want to as that is, after all, your business -" He broke off as he saw the younger man visibly flinch at the mere mention of why he was drinking. He watched as he put his head down, apparently in a move that resembled shame. He opted for anther tactic.

"But I'm asking you here as someone who's concerned - don't make matters worse. Drinking won't solve your problems -"

"You don't know a thing about my problems! You don't have a fucking clue!" The change was startling - where there once was a giggling drunk, masking a broken and desperate man, there was now one who was angry, with his rage fuelled by alcohol.

The dark eyes sparked dangerously while he continued, "You don't know anything about me or my fucking life so jusss'… Leave me alone." He went to get up out of his seat, but Daniel pushed him back down.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ryan demanded. He went to get up again but this time Daniel pinned him back down, his hands having a firm hold on Ryan's shoulders. The younger man struggled furiously and then Daniel heard a faint wince. The kid was hurt somewhere and since he didn't want to hurt him, but rather help him, Daniel loosened his hold.

"I'm trying to help you, you silly boy!" Daniel couldn't help but sound like a father chastising his son - this was all too eerily reminiscent of the kind of fights Alex and he used to have several years ago. He had lost, then - let Alex slip through his fingers - but he'd be damned if he allowed history to repeat itself and him to repeat his mistakes once more. If he couldn't help Alex then, he could certainly attempt at helping this Ryan now.

"Listen to me - I have seen alcohol affect so many people, including my son! I know what I'm talking about!" He said, with his hands still on Ryan's shoulders.

"Well, how come you're running a bloody bar then, if you feel like that?" Ryan spat back. Even when drunk he was observant and quick on the ball.

Daniel paused, staring at him for a minute. He hadn't expected that - didn't realise the kid would be so quick with a comeback. He sighed, wondering what he could possibly say to get through to this young man, already heading down such a grim and dark road.

"Very funny, Mr Smartarse!" He snapped back, feeling his frustration slipping out. He wanted to help but didn't know how…But he was going to have one more go.

"If I run a bar, it means I can try to help those who come to here, right? If I feel that they're drinking too much I try to send them home. I get to know everyone; I get to find out why they're drinking anyway. They tell me what crap they're dealing with in their lives and I listen to them, okay? Now I'm not asking you do the same -"

"Damn straight!" Ryan muttered, yet he ceased struggling. He felt so drained; so exhausted and so utterly consumed with self-loathing. He sat there, not moving and with his eyes turn downwards. Daniel noticed this and felt a slight triumph - what he was saying was working and he was succeeding.

"Son, I don't know what has happened to you," - here Ryan flinched once more at the reference as to why he was here, yet Daniel ploughed on - "but I'm guessing it's not great. But please, don't turn to the bottle. It won't help, believe me. I'm telling you this because I care!" Daniel said softly.

Ryan put his head in his hands. He felt dangerously close to tears - here was a source of comfort and support which he so desperately wanted and needed. Normally he could have had this from his team at work, even though he never would take up this offer as he was the kind of guy who locked his feelings and threw away the key but now… Now he would never be able to tell them anything or ask for help, as they probably didn't want anything to do with him. And quite rightly so, for who wants to help someone like him?

He sighed. Earlier he had had an internal battle raging within him - two parts of him wanted different things. Now the battle had been won by one part, and he had made up his mind. He looked up into the kind eyes of the barkeeper.

"I don't even know your name…" He whispered. His tongue seemed thick and heavy and he felt that his throat was clogged, restricting his speech. Even he could hear how broken his voice sounded.

"It's Daniel. Daniel Lennox. And you're Ryan…?"

"Wolfe."

Daniel nodded. "Ryan, whatever it is you're going through, you don't have to go through it yourself. Don't suffer in silence." He said, looking at the younger man before him. "Don't shut your feelings away…"

Ryan lifted his head out of his hands and looked around him, sighing again before standing up. Daniel lifted his hands of his shoulders and waited. Had he managed to help? His heart was thudding while he wondered what was going through Ryan's head.

Ryan looked right at him, and Daniel could see the unshed tears reflected by the light over the bar.

_The poor, poor kid…_

For a minute nothing was said, and both men looked at each other. And then the silence was shattered by Ryan opening his mouth to speak.

"That's the problem. I have to walk this path alone, 'cause there's no one to walk it with me." As he said it, he was hit with the sudden understanding of his words. The realisation that he was alone stung and attacked him like a thousand tiny needles.

"But -" Daniel tried in vain to speak; to try and change the kid's mind but he was interrupted.

For Ryan's mind was not going to be changed.

"Ssssorry, Daniel." The slurring returned as Ryan spoke, putting down his glass which he had been holding all this time without knowing it. "Thankss for your help, but I'm ssssomeone that can't be helped. I'm just worthless."

And with those words Ryan made his way out of the bar, Daniel watching helplessly as he realised he had failed yet again, and that the consequences were too horrible to imagine.

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**Poor Ryan. Depressed **_**and **_**drunk. He needs a hug. **

**Well, what do you think? Yay or nay?**


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